Bonjour Tristesse Read Free Page B

away and swam towards the boat, which was drifting out. I dipped my face into the water to refresh it. The water was green. A feeling of reckless happiness came over me.
    At half-past eleven Cyril left, and my father and his women appeared on the mule path. He walked between the two, supporting them, offering his hand to each in turn with a charm and naturalness all his own. Anne had kept on her beach wrap. She removed it with complete unconcern, while we all watched her, and lay down on the sand. She had a small waist and perfect legs, and, no doubt as the result of a lifetime of care and attention, her body was almost without a blemish. Involuntarily I glanced at my father, raising an eyebrow of approval. To my great surprise he did not respond, but closed his eyes. Poor Elsa, who was in a lamentable condition, was busy oiling herself. I did not think my father would stand her for another week. . . . Anne turned her head towards me:
    "Cécile, why do you get up so early here? In Paris you stayed in bed until mid-day."
    "I was working," I said. "It made my legs ache."
    She did not smile. She only smiled when she felt like it, never out of politeness, like other people.
    "And your exam?"
    "Ploughed!" I said brightly. "Well and truly ploughed."
    "But you must pass it in October."
    "Why should she?" my father interrupted. "I never got any diplomas and I live a life of luxury."
    "You had quite a fortune to start with," Anne reminded him.
    "My daughter will always find men to look after her," said my father grandiloquently.
    Elsa began to laugh, but stopped when she saw our three faces.
    "She will have to work during the holidays," said Anne, shutting her eyes to put an end to the conversation.
    I gave my father a despairing look, but he merely smiled sheepishly. I saw myself in front of an open page of Bergson, its black lines dancing before my eyes, while Cyril was laughing outside. The idea horrified me. I crawled over to Anne and called her in a low voice. She opened her eyes. I bent an anxious, pleading face over her, drawing in my cheeks to make myself look like an overworked intellectual.
    "Anne," I said, "you're not going to do that to me, make me work in this heat . . . these holidays could do me so much good."
    She stared at me for a moment, then smiled mysteriously and turned her head away.
    "I shall have to make you do 'that,' even in this heat, as you say. You'll be angry with me for a day or two, as I know you, but you'll pass your exam."
    "There are things one cannot be made to do," I said grimly.
    Her only response was a supercilious look, and I returned to my place full of foreboding. Elsa was chattering about various festivities along the Riviera, but my father was not listening. From his place at the apex of the triangle formed by their bodies, he was gazing at Anne's upturned profile with a resolute stare that I recognised. His hand opened and closed on the sand with a gentle, regular, persistent movement. I ran down to the sea and plunged in, bemoaning the holiday we might have had. All the elements of a drama were to hand: a seducer, a demi-mondaine and a determined woman. I saw an exquisite red and blue shell on the sea-bed. I dived for it, and held it, smooth and empty, in my hand all the morning. I decided it was a lucky charm, and that I would keep it. I am surprised that I have not lost it, for I lose everything. To-day it is still pink and warm as it lies in my palm, and makes me feel like crying.
     
     
    4
    Anne was extraordinarily kind to Elsa during the following days. In spite of the numerous silly remarks that punctuated Elsa's conversation, she never gave vent to any of those cutting phrases which were her speciality, and which would have covered the poor girl with ridicule. I was most surprised, and began to admire Anne's forbearance and generosity without realising how subtle she was; for my father, who would soon have tired of such cruel tactics, was now filled with gratitude towards her. He